


Babysitting The Overlord's Daughter

by delusionaldreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionaldreamer/pseuds/delusionaldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normalcy in Emma Holloway’s life came to an abrupt end the day she agreed to babysit little Maison, daughter of her close friends, Misha and Victoria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! delusionaldreamer here.
> 
> Oh my holy grannysmith apples, writing a fanfic for the first time is so nerve-wracking! Just thinking about it makes my heart beat abnormally fast! I don't know if the idea for this fanfic exists already in the Misha Collins tag but I'm most certaintly not gonna browse through 1500+ stories to find out, so if something similar is already out there, I'm sorry about my brain coming up with fake new ideas. 
> 
> Okay, fun's over... Not that it was any fun.  
> Now, onto business.
> 
> I have a general idea of the direction this story is gonna take but nothing's 100% sure yet. Don't expect too much from this as English is not my native language, so please bare with me and forgive my weird syntax/grammar/lack of vocabulary/etc. Other than that, let the fun begin!
> 
> *See what I mean, when I say "lack of vocabulary"? I've repeated ''fun'' like three times.

“Don’t hesitate to give me a call if something’s up with Maison, okay?” Victoria repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time as she scribbled her phone number on dozens of post-its and stuck them on every hard surface she could lay her eyes on.

“You do realize I have your number saved in my phone, right?” Emma pointed out as the matriarch of the family momentarily paused in her actions and started lecturing Emma about the incompetency of mobile devices these days and how sticking to the good old method called “pen and paper” was foolproof.

Despite being best friends for two decades, Vicki and Emma couldn’t trust each other with the other’s kids. In Vicki’s case, the kids in question were her own flesh and blood whereas in Emma’s case, her dog was the equivalent of the little munchkin she never had. Vicki and Emma made a promise to one another when they were boyfriend-less highschool sophomores; they would turn gay for each other if they didn’t manage to find their one true love before obtaining their college diploma.

That’s when Misha came into the picture.

Incredibly handsome, dark hair flowing in the wind, pink pouty lips...That wasn’t how the two ladies recalled their first impression of Misha. In fact, he was actually pretty average-looking at the time. What made him stand out, and eventually catch Victoria’s attention and win her heart in the process, was his slightly abnormal nature. In fact, she used to refer to him as the “odd guy". As aging does to wine, the same happened to Misha, though the quirky side of him didn’t fade with time, it only became much more amplified, resulting in an overwhelming amount of love from weirdos alike, who call themselves his minions.

“Misha Collins! Get your ass down here!” Vicki yelled from the bottom of the staircase, taking advantage of the huge mirror, which was hanging on the wall next to an anatomically incorrect autoportrait of West, to stick the last of her post-it notes.

“Vicki, relax, would you? I’m sure Emma can handle a teething and sloberring miniature human for a few days,” Misha answered back as he walked down the stairs with two sleepy blond haired children in his arms. He carefully handed the younger sibling to the worried mom and the yawning older child to a grinning Emma.

“How did you do it?” She asked the couple, her eyes never leaving West’s innocent and tired doe eyes.

“Do what? Lull them to sleep? I have what some would call a voice blessed by the angels above,” Misha joked as he slung a bag across his shoulders and picked up the luggage containing a week’s worth of diapers. “Or it could be that my tibetan throat singing is sleep-inducing.”

Emma and Vicki chuckled, remembering how his special skill came to be. “No, I mean, how could you two conceive such adorable babies?”

Misha gestured wildly to his wife’s upper body, focusing on one particular area, the chest. “Does that answer your question?”

Emma raised her eyebrow quizzically, not quite understanding how Vicki’s boobs were the secret ingredient behind the Collins babies beautiful features.

“Breast milk from a stunning woman. Duh!” Misha rolled his eyes as he took a sleepy West from Emma’s arms and helped him tie his shoes, all the while grinning at his wife who kicked him playfully in the ribs.

After ten years of marriage, Vicki and Misha were still pretty much in love with each other. Sadly, most of the people they knew were either divorced or have fallen out of love. Having gone through a lot of rough patches together played a key part in solidifying their relationship to the extent that no one could ever be able to come between them.

“Well then. I just threw up in my mouth a little which is a clear sign that you guys need to leave. And that'd better be quick because my stomach is about to empty all its content on your oriental rug,” Emma shrugged as she cringed inwardly at the peculiar display of affection.

The curly haired brunette slipped on her sandals and adjusted her glasses before speaking.

“I’m gonna check up on her everyday. Don’t lose your phone. And if anything happens to my baby while we’re away, I’m gonna throw your pooch in a meat grinder, cook it thoroughly and shove it down your throat. We wouldn’t want you to get food poisoning now, would we?” Victoria fake-threatened her long-time girl friend who had gotten used to that kind of dark humor.

Emma gave her a you-can-trust-me smile and patted Vicki’s back reassuringly. She shouted goodbye as Vicki walked towards her car, followed closely behind by a now fully awake and excited West who was waving back at her. Misha picked up the luggage containing the diapers and his keys and whispered something in Emma’s ear.

“No sex on our bed. But if it is inevitable, be safe. We don’t want you getting pregnant. We’d hate having to share you with your new family.”

He licked his lips suggestively as she laughed sarcastically and kicked him out of his house. She watched them get into the car and waved one final time. Emma closed the door and took a deep breath. There she was, a single woman with no parenting skills, babysitting an eight months old toddler.

All by herself.

She closed her eyes, pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and made her way to the spacious kitchen area. If she was going to take care of a baby, she had to get some energy first. She rummaged through the refridgerator, finding nothing but kale, berries, tomato sauce and baby food. She furrowed her eyebrows and threw her head back in despair.

“Of course there would only be food for herbivores here. It _is_ Misha and Vicki’s house.”

She gave up on the idea of cooking up dinner and decided she’d call the pizza delivery guy instead.

“I might as well feed Maison now,” she said to herself as she checked her phone. 5:17 PM . Only eleven minutes had gone by since the happy family left. She leisurely climbed the stairs and tip-toed her way to chubby little Maison’s room. As she turned the door knob, she noticed it was suspiciously quiet. Way too quiet for a baby who, as the couple claimed, cries at least 20 times a day. She delicately opened the door and was momentarily blinded by what she saw.

Orange in every square inch of the room.

The walls were a washed out orange. The curtains were a vibrant orange. The breastfeeding chair was another shade of orange. A vanilla white crib stood amidst all the orange going on in the room. Finally something she could look at without squinting her eyes in agony! She glanced around the room, which was obviously decorated by Misha, and rested her palms on Maison’s crib. She turned her attention to the peaceful baby lying in the bed and gasped.

It was empty.

“Where in the seven seas is Maison?!” she shrieked, hands clammy, anxiety slowly creeping its way to the surface. She stormed out of the room, tripping a few times on some toys laying around, and ran down the stairs to look for the youngest of the Collins. Did she leave her in the lounge room? Or in the kitchen? She couldn’t remember anything, her nerves were all jumbled up in her upstair area. As she restlessly paced in front of the main entrance, debating whether or not she should call Vicky and tell her she already lost the child, the doorbell rang.

As she quite literally flew down the stairs, hair in her mouth and panting like a fat man pants when climbing up a flight of stairs, a sheepish Vicky greeted her, shamefully holding a wide-eyed Maison. She laughed awkwardly and scratched her head.

“I forgot to hand you Maison before I left. Funny...Right?”

It took a while for Misha and Vicki to notice that Maison was in the car with them despite her sleeping in the writer’s arms. They were both too busy answering West’s nonsensical questions about the origin of glowing seahorses and talking grass.

Right until they heard a gurgle.

Misha immediately turned the car around, almost hitting an elderly dog in the process.

“Vicki! You scared the bejeezus out of me! I thought I lost her! Seriously-” She was interrupted by a honk.

“We have to go now or we’re gonna miss our flight!” Misha yelled from the driveway, "Jared is already on his way to the airport and, god forbid, if he gets here before me, he'll be planning a prank with Jensen!"

Sensing a note of hysteria in Misha's voice, Emma ushered the apologetic but thankful mom into the car, “Don’t worry Vic, we’ll be fine.” 

They bid their goodbyes for the second time. This time, Emma double checked to make sure Maison was still in her arms and not on the porch before chuckling, a result of the couple’s clumsiness and absentmindedness.

“How are their kids still alive and well?” She asked herself, amused.

Meanwhile, on the fast and furious ride to the airport, Misha and Vicki wondered exactly the same thing about their friend. Forgetting where she misplaced an object was one thing but forgetting where she put a baby? How she managed to stay alive and not set fire to her own home because of her forgetful personality was beyond their understanding.


	2. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma discovers an earth-shattering secret.

“Three...Two...One...Done!”

Emma singsonged as the microwave made a loud beeping sound, earning a few giggles from Maison. The babysitter dipped her finger in the bowl of mashed peas, checking to see if it was the right temperature, and scooped a spoonful of the green mixture. How babies could eat that gooey and tasteless stuff was a complete mystery to Emma. It was already bad enough that it had to be blended 25 times but now she had to add some solids into the purée to train Maison to chew?

“The taste must be quite...something,” Emma stuck her tongue out in disgust.

After realizing how much work it was to take care of a baby, Emma felt like calling her mom and telling her that she was an exceptional human being.

“Don’t you think Mother’s Day should be celebrated every day?” she asked Maison, who was staring intently at the plastic bowl in the replacement-mom’s right hand.

“They deserve more recognition, don’t you agree?”

Maison babbled in response, streching her arms in a failed attempt to grab the food in the talkative lady’s hands. Emma noticed the toddler starting to get impatient so she put down the bowl on the high chair, which the chubby girl immediately grabbed. The woman stared in shock as Maison put her hands in the bowl and started eating, missing her mouth numerous times and instead, slathering her face with the green goo.

Emma thought about the mess she’d have to clean later and shrugged. Parents really had it hard! Maybe if she ignored it, it would disappear...

“No, Emma. Be a responsible adult,” she lectured herself. Taking care of Maison was like a test to see if she was mother material. But then, she remembered how giving birth to a baby sounded painful and winced at the pain she would feel in her southern area.

From what she heard of Vicki’s long hours of huffing, grunting and screaming in the delivery room, bringing a child into the world wasn’t an easy task. She thought that after a few months, babies would, somehow, magically grow wings and become tiny adults. After spending an hour and a half with Maison, she understood that, in order for a child to grow in a good environment, a lot of love and patience had to be put in its upbringing. Despite being unconventional parents, Misha and Vicki were doing a phenomal job at raising their kids.

She sat on the kitchen counter, occasionally glancing at Baby Collins to make sure she wasn’t choking on her delightful meal, when she spotted a large framed picture of Misha and Vicki hanging on the wall across of her.

Miles and miles of luscious green trees stood on each side of a pebbled pathway. The sky, which looked like it was slowly giving way to the darkness, was a mesmerizing shade of a redish orange. The last rays of sunshine were reflecting on Misha’s sparkling baby blue eyes and Vicki’s nut-brown orbs. Emma couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the photograph: the pair was dressed in their slighlty dirty hiking gear and genuine peace adorned their worn-out but happy faces. Vicki looked like she was in the middle of a laughing fit as Misha gazed at her lovingly, a soft grin etched onto his face.

Emma couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of her bestfriend. Vicki had always been an independant and outspoken woman, she didn’t care what people thought of her which, now that she thought about it, must have been the trait that attracted Misha to her.

Emma had a crush on him a long time ago, when they were high school seniors. Of course, she dismissed it, knowing too well that the handsome actor only had eyes for his current wife. She had felt extremely guilty about it and poured her heart out to Vicki immediately after she figured out what the weird stirrings in her stomach in his presence meant. How could she have a thing for her best friend’s boyfriend? She was nervous about her friend’s reaction to her little secret, fearing that they couldn’t be besties anymore. But, Vicki, being her usual understanding and unexpected self, laughed until she had tears coming out of her eyes at the shorter woman’s revelation. Emma, who was kneeling on the floor next to Vicki’s bed waiting for her punishment, was utterly speechless. After a few minutes of cracking up, Vicki told her that she had been aware of her feelings for Misha for awhile and that she was completely okay with it.

“If my best friend also likes my boyfriend then that means he must be one hell of a great guy! I mean, you have a knack for reading people so I trust your judgment,” Vicki had said at that time, no hint of sarcasm or hate in her voice. If there was one thing Emma would never forget even when she’d be wrinkly and insane, it would be what Vicki said that evening, which proved to her that there were no barriers between them.

A whiny sound brought her back to reality. Maison was done with her meal and looked like she wanted to be let down of her high chair. Emma baby-talked to the child and wiped her pretty face with a napkin. She proceeded to give her a well-deserved bath and changed her diapers.

7:32.

That night, Emma skipped dinner and instead, brought Maison to the master bedroom and lied down with her on the soft and springy bed. The blue eyed angel fell fast asleep, allowing the babysitter to explore the bedroom. She saw a large cardboard box with “great memories” written all over it in the corner of the large room. She quietly opened it, amazed to find all the stuff that she, Vicki, Misha and their other friends had made in art class when they were younger. She sighed as she reminisced about the past, feeling a bit nostalgic about the good old days. When she finally reached the bottom of the box, an old leather cover album caught her attention. As she picked it up, a piece of paper fell out of one of the pages. She was about to put it back to where it belonged when she saw Misha’s initials on the back of the carefully folded sheet.

“Should I?” she asked herself, her fingers twitching slightly, her self-control being put to test. She approached it to her eyes, holding it up above her face. Maybe she could read the content without unfolding the paper...

"Victoria... Fucking... R-rated... Mistake...Emma...!"

Emma’s eyebrows knitted in curiosity. Why was her name mentionned in what seemed like a love letter? She checked around to see if she was being watched, a habit that she acquired because of her love for snooping around, and resumed analysing the thin sheet of paper. Emma sniggered as she imagined a shy teenage Misha writing a sexually-explicit letter to Vicki. He had always been good at words, she wondered just how exactly he had phrased his undying love and _need_ for her at that time. She inhaled deeply and with trembling hands, she unfolded the letter, exhilaration coursing through her veins.

“I definitely need to go out more,” she reminded herself, ashamed at how much fun she was having, “At 36 years old, here’s what I’m doing on a Friday night. Wow.”

She made sure one last time that no cameras were spying on her before immersing herself in the letter.

“ _November 27 th 1994._

_Dear Victoria,_

_I miss you. I miss you a whole fucking lot. It’s been so long since I last saw you, heard you or touched you. I really miss holding you in my arms, my head resting on your shoulders, your coconut scented hair tickling my cheeks as we watch incredibly bad R-rated movie. I know it hasn’t been smooth sailing between us for the last few months but I believe we can work it out. We always have, haven’t we? I’m sure this time won’t be any different._

_I could’ve sent you an e-mail instead but I know you take pleasure at trying to read my horrid handwritting. I also thought about writing a poem about you but words wouldn’t do your greatness any justice. Even writing this letter took me six days; one, to think about what I wanted to tell you, two, to summarize in 38 lines what I truly feel and three, to correct all my mistakes because I know what a grammar freak you are. If you were here, you’d be shaking your head disapprovingly at the tons of rough drafts scrumpled up in the trashcan next to me. I’d laugh and tell you how beautiful you look when you judge my skills as a writer. You’d ask me to stop, still not used to being complimented daily, and try to get out of my room. I’d stop you, stare deeply into your eyes and you’d try to avoid my piercing blue eyes. And then, we’d have sex ‘cause that’s what we usually end up doing after a staring contest._

_I really hate being apart from you. I miss our high school days; everything was simple back then. We saw each other everyday, we wrote poems to each other, we’d occasionally have petty arguments and Emma would patch things up between us...Speaking of Emma, I sort of miss her. It’s been so long since we’ve chatted, I guess she’s too busy beating the crap out of the students at that school in Milan, huh? I’ve always thought she was a teeny tiny bit too...physically abusive. Don’t tell her I said that or she’ll tackle me the moment she comes back._

_Huh. (Imagine me saying that as I make an earth-shattering discovery). Remember that fight we had a few years back about something meaningless? "Which one?" I can picture you asking me that. Well, we somehow drifted away from the subject and you inadvertedly told me Emma had a crush on me. I recall being flabbergasted and I think I finally know the reason why._

_I liked her too._ ”

Emma read that last sentence a few times, speechless. What followed after didn't concern her, and frankly, after quickly scanning down the page, the descriptions were way too graphic, making her feel a bit uncomfortable. She rubbed her eyes, put on the prescription glasses that were sitting on her head, wiped them clean and read the last part again. Her eyes weren’t deceiving her; Misha had liked her too. Two decades ago.


	3. Deals with West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma recalls some memories from college and has her first encounter with West, the businessman.

Falling asleep that night was pretty much impossible. Emma was kept awake by Maison’s non-stop crying and when the weeping angel finally fell into deep slumber, Emma tossed and turned in the bed before ultimately giving up on sleeping. With the secret she discovered earlier, there was nothing that could possibly put her mind or heart to rest. Emma propped herself up on her elbow and turned her body sideways, facing the chubby child snoring softly next to her. She patted Maison’s plump belly in a soothing rythm and stared out of the window, into the darkness. A car would occasionally drive by, some rap music blasting out of the speakers, disrupting the peace that surrounded the neighborhood, before silence took over again.

November 1994. That was when Emma was in her second year of medical studies at a prestigious college in Milan. Juggling between studies, work and, well, life in general, wasn’t an easy task. In the beginning, she exchanged daily emails with Vicki and Misha but by the time the semester neared its end, she barely had time to eat a meal, let alone write to her close buddies. She heard nothing from the couple for a few months until one day, Vicki sent her a brief but straightforward message.

“We broke up.” May 12th 1993.

The weeks that followed had Emma emotionally and mentally drained. She had comforted Vicki, who needed no comforting at all, during the day and lent her ear to an apathetic Misha during the night. The latter one had appeared much more affected by the separation; no matter what Emma said to cheer him up, he would wallow in his sorrow. She had frowned in concern many times because of the barely audible sniffles coming from the other side of the line, though, at that time, Misha had reassured her that he was only whimpering because of the immensely high cost of international phone calls.

During that period of time, she still had feelings for Misha. She knew where the boundaries lied though; he was still Vicki’s boyfriend despite the circumstances. Emma knew they’d get back together; they brought out the best in each other. On the other side, a persistant and annoying voice in her had hoped for the opposite. That little voice that she had buried in the depths of her soul wanted to break free of its chains and run amok in the three amigos’ lives.

“You stay where you are, you son of a bitch. You’re not gonna come in between Misha and Vicki.”

The couple eventually got back together a few months later. Five months later, to be exact. Emma even remembered the date because Misha called her late that night, mumbling incoherently and panting hard. Before she could even ask him what put him in such a good mood, a breathy voice called out his name sensually.

Vicki.

Figuring out what was going on was no rocket science. She recalled choking on her words but still managing to ask if he was doing the _deed_.

“Am I calling you while I’m having sex with Vicki?” he grunted as if he was putting his muscles to work, whatever they were. To this day, Vicki’s dainty moans still traumatize her.

Emma had yelled on the phone and had told them that they could’ve delayed the news of them being a couple again to the next morning instead of calling her when they were in the middle of engaging in sexual intercourse. A few moments after, melodic laughter filled the air on the other end of the line.

“Gotcha!” Vicki shouted, momentarily deafening Emma’s left ear. Now, that Emma thought about it, she should have seen it coming considering the fact that they were probably the most intense pranksters she had ever met. That night, the two folks told her the whole story about how they made up. Unlike Vicki, who had barely scraped the surface of their rekindled romance, Misha had dwelled in details extending a story that would usually take 15 minutes to tell into a two hour long monologue.

Emma fell asleep that night, relieved that her friends got back together but a bit disappointed that her lengthy chats with Misha were now history.

She had gradually ceased to contact Misha, just so she could sort out her inappropriate feelings. Seven weeks flew by at the speed of light, then Vicki gave her a call and told her that she and Misha had called it quits. Again.

Emma had expected Misha to call her that very night, complaining at first and eventually breaking out in sobs, which he would dismiss as having something in his throat.

But he never did.

She had a weakness for him. She already had experienced tons of unrequited love in the past and she took care of them rather well but at that time, it was different, young love it must’ve been.

By the time Emma went through all of her college memories, which included an embarrassing number of humiliating breakups and drunk hookups, the sun had already risen. She stretched her whole body and purred like a cat.

“Ah...The joys of being a grown-up with no responsibilities!”

Her morning gymnastics woke up a sleepy Maison in the most majestic way possible. The little one rubbed her eyes with her tiny fists, yawned like a roaring feline and rolled around on the bed like a fat man unable to get up. Crowley, Emma’s American Eskimo whose name is a homage to one of her favorite Supernatural characters, made his way up from the end of the bed to the fluffly pillows and began nibbling gently on Maison’s toes, illiciting high pitched giggles from her. Emma watched the interaction between the human and the dog, an adoring look on her sleep deprived face, and stretched out her arm to grab her cellphone to immortalize the moment. A pop song started playing, indicating that someone was calling her. 

As she accepted the facetime call, Crowley lied down next to Emma, one paw tucked under his body, and Maison crawled next to them so she could pat the dog’s vanilla colored haired head.

“Yo, homie. How’s my baby doin’? I hope for your sake she’s alive or Vick-to-the-I is gonna fucking rip your heart out, son. Fo’shizzle,” Misha said in what sounded like Castiel’s low and gravely robotic voice.

The corners of Emma’s mouth twitched upward, “Listen out, Mish-to-the-A. Your boo’s next to me playing with my bae, Crow-to-the-Ley. Check it out, yo,” she played along and made some intricate gangster signs as Misha grinned widely, amused.

“Wave to daddy, sweetheart,” Emma smiled to the pair as Maison snatched the phone and said unintelligible strings of sentences comprised mainly of sounds. Afraid that Maison might get a tummy ache from nibbling on her phone that probably had a whole civilization of bacteria living on it, Emma took hold of the device and held it in the air, allowing the three quarters of the Collins family to see the happy trio lying on the bed.

“Seriously? You named your dog after Crowley, the King of Hell?” Misha raised his eyebrow, unimpressed by her lack of originality, “I thought you liked Castiel. You’re a real disappointment. I'm disowning you, you ungrateful brat!”

“Well, excuse me if I thought it would be weird to picture your head on my dog’s body every time I sleep next to him!”

“Oh, I get it now. I’m way too attractive. You wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if you saw my face next to yours every night,” Misha chuckled and wriggled his eyebrows, his hypnotizing blue eyes piercing through hers. Emma made a grimace and laughed.

“Okay, you two, stop flirting with each other. I want to see my darling before we have to leave for the convention,” Vicki pushed Misha’s head out of the way and grabbed the phone, cooing and talking in a baby voice. 

“Mommy misses you, do you miss mommy?” She asked on the brink of tearing up, to which Misha responded by patting her shoulder comfortingly and holding her closer to him.

West, who was deeply focused on an episode of Dora the Explorer, looked around the room, feeling a little rumble in his tummy.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

He kept on repeating the same sentence thrice, but his parents were too busy talking to Maison.

“Maison. Maison. Maison. It’s always Maison. We have to bring her back to the hospital,” he mumbled, unhappy that once again, he was being pushed to the sideline because of the youngest of the Collins. He was now sulking in front of the TV, trying to find a way to catch his parents’ eyes. Should he pretend to be hurt, like that time when Maison was getting all the attention because of her cute burps? Or smother his parents with affection so that they’d momentarily forget that they had another kid?

“Daddy!” He opted for the latter. West flashed his pearly whites and ran from the living room area to his dad’s lap. Misha turned around, surprised that West was all smiles in the morning, especially after he had been woken up an hour earlier than usual. Misha opened his arms and shifted to the side just in time or else his baby-making appendage would’ve been seriously damaged.

“Westie, you could’ve hurt yourself! Be careful, okay?” Misha furrowed his eyebrow and shot his child a stern look. West nodded furiously and hugged his father, which earned him instant forgiveness.

“Hi, aunt Emma,” Misha’s little bug climbed on Victoria’s shoulder and waved to the phone. “Do you want Maison? Say yes and I will give you all my favorite monkeys!”

The three adults burst in laughter. Looks like cutting West’s nails so he wouldn’t scratch Maison wasn’t enough, now they have to prevent him from making deals with other grown-ups about selling his younger sister.

“Hey, buddy. Why would you ask me that?” Emma grinned, expecting a witty answer from West. He was, after all, Misha’s kid.

“Well, I think Maison looks like you. Are you her mom? Did you make Maison with my daddy?”


	4. Preamble To Victoria's Diabolical Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha makes a mistake that will cost him. A lot.

Emma stared at West, her plump lips slightly parted and her forest green eyes widely opened. She shook her head and waved her hands denying his claim in front of the camera, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. The horrified look on her face explained it all although, at West’s age, reading faces was not something feasible.

“Take her, please!'' he begged, putting on his most pityful puppy dog eyes.

Before she could tell West that taking Maison away from her parents without their authorization meant that she would be abducting a child, which would send her ass directly to jail, Misha stepped in.

“Westie, how could you say that? You both have the same mommy!’’ he said, the corners of his mouth lifting up slightly. He had to resist bursting out in laughter after seeing Emma's distraught face and Victoria’s unbelieving expression at West's speculation about his younger sibling's biological parents.

“Mommy's hurt,'' Vicki pouted, a teeny bit upset that the child she bore for nine months looked nothing like her. If people didn't know her relationship with Maison, they would think they were unrelated. “You think Maison looks like aunt Emma? What part of Maison's face reminds you of her?’’

West rested his small hand under his chin and his other hand on one of Misha's strong thighs. He hummed and stared blankly at the ceiling. He counted on his fingers and closed his eyes as he touched his own facial features. Finally, after a few seconds, he opened his brown orbs and clapped, as if he discovered a new element on the periodic table.

“First, they have yellow hair and you don't," Vicki acknowledged West's observation. She wasn't going to go into the details of genetics to try to explain to him that, technically, it was possible for Maison to be blond despite her hair being darker.

“West one, mommy zero!"Misha exclaimed, entertained. Vicki scrunched her nose, annoyed that her husband wasn't doing a better job at convincing West that he and Maison came from the same uterus.

“Maison has blue eyes like daddy and she's very white like aunt Emma," he continued, pointing to Misha's twinkling eyes and Emma's porcelain skin through the phone.

“Touché!" Misha continued, high-fiving the little detective, slowly irritating Victoria. The mother of the Collins inhaled deeply, getting rid of the urge to lash out on her useless husband.

“Okay, okay. That's enough," she said, impatiently, “I got it." But West wasn't done.

“She also has a small nose like aunt Emma,"

“And very pink lips like daddy,"

“And long eye hair like daddy and aunt Emma,"

Emma gulped as she noticed the steam coming out of her best friend’s ears and the overall sourness all over her face. “Eyelashes, West. Not eye hair,’’ she corrected him, her voice trembling a little, uncertain about her fate after Victoria comes back home.

Misha looked adoringly at West, overwhelmed with love for this silly little human, “Should aunt Emma live with us? That way she'd take care of Maison and mommy would only look after you!’’ West eyes lit up, smiling broadly as the man of the house suggested something unexpected, “Even better, should daddy marry auntie Emma?"

Emma, who was nervously rubbing Crowley's soft belly with Maison's hand back in the married couple's bedroom, put her hand to her mouth, shocked, her hand twitching imperceptibly fast. Victoria’s patience had ran out a few moons ago, what more did the devilishly handsome actor want to achieve?!

“It’d be wise of you to stop, Misha," Emma whispered, wiping the cold sweat off her forehead with shaky fingers, “Like, right at this moment.’’

The actor had never seen his wife jealous. Flared nostrils and murderous glares, that’s what jealousy looks like, right? From what he had just witnessed, it seemed like the only explanation behind the disdain-filled look from his significant other. He loved seeing his wife consumed by the foreign green-eyed monster. She, on the other hand loathed the uncomfortable burning in the pit of her stomach but getting played by her mischievious husband was even worse. Seething, she was already planning a heartless revenge.

“If that's how you wanna play, fine," she spat, “Let's play."

She stood up from the bed and gently grabbed West's hand, despite the flames burning inside of her, both of them walking out of the hotel room. The little one pranced happily, looking forward to a life in which he wouldn't have to share his parents with the “intruder’’ he's forced to call his sister.

As Misha turned around to catch a glimpse of his wife storming out of the room they'd share uncomfortably for a few more days, Emma asked him what in the world he was doing.

“Do you have a death wish?! You know what Vicki's capable of! Why did you say that?! I don't want to be targeted too!’’

Misha turned his attention back to the worried woman on his phone, “Calm down, Emma. Everything's going to be fine, Vic's only gonna get her revenge on me,’’ he rolled his eyes, “You're her bestest friend in the world so you're off the hook !’’ he said in an 11 year-old girl voice as he walked towards the vanity mirror and fixed his renowned sexy bed hair.

Emma sighed, exasperated, “If something happens to me, you’re responsible,’’ he nodded to reassure her, although they both knew Vicki wouldn't go as far as to physically harm her.

“This is going to be interesting,’’ he smirked, excited about Victoria's plans for him. Seeing her so animated actually turned him on, it was uncharacteristically of her to get worked up over something which was obviously a joke. She had never expressed envy when attractive and seductive young women threw themselves at Misha in the past or even now. Seeing this side of her really got him hot and bothered.

Emma could see that Misha's mind was in the gutter by the odd snigger on his face and his lustful gaze. “Uh...I'm gonna go now. Call you back later’’ she shuddered as they bid their goodbyes, allowing Maison to kiss the camera one last time before she ended the FaceTime call.

Emma was very afraid he'd attempt something again just so he could get her blood boiling. Victoria was a relatively patient and serene person but she wasn't the kind of woman who'd sit still when attacked. At least, that's what she was, as a friend. But as a lover, what was Victoria Vantoch like? Judging from the anticipation on Misha's face earlier, the sex between them must be quite something for Misha to be having dirty thoughts a few minutes before starting his panel at a Supernatural convention. She didn't want to think about that and be scarred by the mental images slowly forming in her head. She shut her eyes tightly and thought about everything from chubby corgis running in the wild to new curtains for the ginormous windows in the Collins' house, anything to get rid of the horrifying pictures of them doing the deed in the same ways described in the oh-so-popular Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.

And, yes. She did read the books despite the innocence she displayed. Well, the first hundred pages of the first one. Extremely detailed, vaguely pukeworthy and definitely not as interesting as teenagers make it out to be.

"Do people in real life actually enjoy that kind of stuff?" she had asked Misha when she came across the explicit scenes in the book during an evening at the Collins. "Like, spanking and whips?"

"Well, I don't know about anyone else but I kinda like it," he had said nonchalantly while surfing on Netflix for something good to watch. That had taken her by surprise.

"What? I'm just stating the truth!" he had explained without batting an eyelash after stealing a glance at a very disturbed Emma Holloway, "In fact, I like when Vicki plays the dominatrix..." Emma could've spent the rest of her life not knowing that Misha was the submissive one in the relationship.

And so, on that note, she spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house and playing with Maison and Crowley. After a long hard day of fully assuming the responsibilities of a usual stay-at-home mom, the golden haired woman fell onto the nearest couch, drained. She put her throbbing feet up on the coffee table and untied her ponytail, inhaling deeply the scent of a scrubbed, mopped and almost spotless house. It wasn't her job to do the household chores but she liked it when living areas were tidy. Plus, cleaning really took her mind off unwanted thoughts. As a matter of fact, getting a breath of fresh air, too.

“Maison, sweetie, wanna take a walk?'' The little girl smiled at the sight of Crowley's ears perking up at the word "walk". Emma stretched her slim legs in front of her and made circular motions with her neck, loosening up the rest of her slightly aching body before standing up and picking up Maison, Crowley following excitedly behind. She walked over to the vestibule and strapped in the giddy girl in the neon green stroller she gifted the Collins as a congratulatory gift for their second pregnancy. She put on some cheap plastic sandals that will probably meet the trash soon before attaching a glittery leash to Crowley’s collar.

“We're all set!'' She sang as she glanced around, making sure that the stoves were turned off so that she wouldn't come back to a scene straight out of public service announcement about cigarettes, negligence and fire. She locked the door and with a content look, she crossed the deserted streets. Confused as to why no one was outside mowing their lawn or having a cook-off on such a warm and sunny day, the blonde woman squinted her eyes suspiciously, looking for something out of place in the populated neighborhood usually filled with chirpy kids. Where was the happiness-filled laughter of children partaking in outdoor activities? Where were all the loud barbecue-crazed couples who always invited people to test taste their new chicken wings recipe? Where was everyone?

“Take a chill pill,’’ Emma calmed her palpitating heart, “Zombie apocalypses don't happen over the course of...six hours,’’ she rationalized as she calculated the time she spent inside the house without seeing a sign of life. Just because it was eerily quiet in a normally noisy residential area didn’t mean that people, or rather dead people, were chomping on one another’s shoulders spreading the zombie virus across the entire globe like wildfire...right? Yeah, Emma had a habit of making the worse out of everything, not exactly an optimist here.

Crowley scraching his ears elicited claps, giggles and drool from Maison, bringing out the neat freak inside Emma and momentarily taking her mind off the crazy situations she was picturing. She opened the baby bag to look for a towel when her sharp eyes landed on a slightly ripped and crumpled flyer about a children's day festival taking place a few streets down.

“Ah...It all makes sense now!’’ she snorted, feeling stupid because of the absurd thoughts that sprouted from her overly active imagination. As if on cue, the blurry memories of Vicki telling her about the family friendly event came back to her. Emma always wondered what a family trip was like, her parents never really took her anywhere when she was younger, they were more of the don’t-really-talk-to-you-but-always-know-when-you’re-causing-trouble type of parents. Maison would get to play with the toddlers there and she wouldn’t mind meeting other people because spending the whole time talking to a speech-restricted baby and a dog would probably drive her insane if she didn’t stock up on social interactions.

“Let’s go!’’ she shouted as Crowley wagged his tail furiously, scaring Emma who recalled Crowley fracturing his tail a few years ago because of the same two words she uttered a bit too enthusiastically.

Crowley was not like any other dog. Sometimes, Emma even wondered if Crowley was a dog because he certainly didn’t behave like one. When she tells him to go fetch, Crowley doesn’t give a rat's ass; he stares at her blankly, not budging one bit from the top of the sofa, extremely unimpressed. When she lets him out in the yard, he comes right back in with a special gift writhing between his sharp teeth. From the numerous hours she spent reading about psychosociology and whatnot in college, she discerned a pattern in Crowley’s social interactions: he doesn’t hang out with dogs. He prefers the company of cunning, greedy and ungrateful jerkassess, also commonly referred to as cats. Out of concern, Emma had pestered her veterinarian asking if she should schedule an appointment with her local dog whisperer because Crowley seemed to be having a long-lasting and quite intense identity crisis. All she got out of the therapy session was a 85$ bill and weird looks from passerbys who saw her go in the shady building, disguised from head to toe. She did eventually come to terms with Crowley’s special personality, she was quirky too, and to this day, she can’t think of any other dog, or human, who would get along with her as well as the lovely but demonically-named ball of fur.

Less than half an hour later, the creepy caroussel music associated to fun fairs and the delicious buttery smell of popcorn made their way to Crowley’s developped senses. He tugged on the leash forcefully, showing no mercy to his full-handed owner, who was struggling to keep him still and naviguate the flashy stroller into the mass of figures. A few swear words and crushed feet later, Emma discovered the first empty bench in a kilometer and ran as if she were chased by Lilith, before sitting down and regretting her decision about wanting to show Maison what ‘’fun’’ was all about. She took as much space as possible, spreading her legs wide across the whole wooden bench, preventing anyone else from sitting near her because she forgot to put on some deodorant.

As she bent down to look for something in Maison’s bag that would mask the odour that was slowly emanating from her warm armpits, someone tapped her shoulder lightly. Emma turned around, greeted by surprise by an attractive and athletic young woman.

“Emma? It’s great to see you here!’’


	5. Roger That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria is much more deranged than what Emma remembered.

Time passes by quickly when you’re in good company.

Emma didn’t notice the skies darkening or the crowd of dead tired parents and equally exhausted children moving like a school of fish towards the exit; she was too enthralled by the friendly diversion.

The babysitter didn’t do anything except watch over Maison when she wanted to go play with the other kids, which occured one single time during the whole afternoon and it was only because her little friend had a yummy-looking ice cream cone in his hands. Even when Emma tried to make a slealthy escape, since the baby didn’t want to mingle with the toddlers or ride the mega fun attractions designed specifically for infants and their parents, she was stopped by her loud whines and tantrums. Good thing Genevieve, Thomas and the Padalecki’s furry friends were there to entertain her, otherwise Emma would’ve been bored out of her mind watching Maison sleep soundly and Crowley bury his snout in people’s butts.

‘’So, what are you going to do now?’’ Genevieve turned to Emma, as they each pushed their strollers to the exit, the three glossy-haired dogs running ahead of them.

‘’Walk home and feed the kid!’’ she replied, wondering whether she should ask Gen to come too.

The two women weren’t exactly the closest of friends; they haven’t been acquaintances for long. Emma met her through one of those ‘’dinner with friends’’ Misha organised a few months ago. Because he had to leave right after hosting the dinner to fly to Vancouver to discuss the renewal of his contract on Supernatural, he invited the Padaleckis and the Ackles to run over some lines and at the same time, introduce Emma to some female friends whose personalities were quite similar to hers. Unfortunately, since Jensen and his wife were on a holiday, the last before Danneel was considered full-term, in attendance were only the Padaleckis’ party of three, the Collins crew and lonesome Emma. And since then, they haven’t really gotten the opportunity to have a cup of tea together and get to know each other. Now was the time.

And so, Gen nodded without saying a word, letting an awkward pause build between them, ‘’Well, I don’t want to hold you up any longer...‘’ she said, desperately searching Emma’s eyes for an invitation to come in.

Emma got the hint. She smiled sympathetically, actually giddy about having her first girls’ night in forever, ‘’Wanna come over? I could really use some kind of distraction while I handwash Maison’s delicate puke stained bibs.’’

It was no surprise that Ruby’s meatsuit immediately said yes. Without Jared and his childish antics, their house was really quiet aside from Thomas’ occasional wails and the dogs nightmare-caused whimpers. She got bored really fast and because of the pregnancy hormones, even getting a whiff of Jared’s scent on their bed turned her into a sobbing mess. Genevieve needed distraction too.

And so, the walk to the Collins’ house was lively and filled with curiousity, their interest about each other kept the conversation going, making them walk one block further than where the house was located. As Emma opened the door for Gen to walk in with the pooches and Thomas, Emma got a call from Victoria.

She screamed internally, ‘’Oh my god. It’s her. Why is she calling? Surely not to tell me our friendship is over, right? Of course not, hoes before bros... Or is it bros before hoes?’’

Thousands of things, some related to Misha’s ‘’mistake’’ and some unrelated, were running through her mind. Genevieve noticed something was off about her new friend when she said her name four times and she didn’t respond. Worried, she walked back to the entrance where Emma was glued to the ground, her eyes piercing through her ringing phone and her fingers gripping tightly the handles of the baby carriage.

‘’Are you alright?’’ she asked, cocking her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

‘’Yeah, hang on, I have to take this call if I don’t wanna die,’’ Emma murmured, her hands damp and her throat constricting because of fear. She put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath before accepting the dreaded call.

‘’Good evening, V-vicky,’’ she stuttered, the hairs on her neck rising because of the dead silence on the other end of the line. ‘’How’s it going?’’

Sensing that Emma needed some privacy, Gen motionned to the house to tell her that she was going in. She patted her shoulder comfortingly before leaving with Maison sleeping snuggly in her arms.

‘’Emma Holloway,’’ Victoria whispered, ‘’We need to talk about what happened this morning.’’

Emma rubbed her temples anxiously before exhaling all the air from her lungs until she was a shriveled mass of skin and nerves, ‘’I really had no idea Misha would say that,’’ she mumbled agitatedly as she paced around the front lawn, ‘’No matter what he tells you, I had nothing to do with this! I’m pretty sure he wanted to anger you so that you’d get your revenge on him. In a more intimate setting, if you catch my drift.’’

Victoria sniggered, ‘’Yeah, I do. I knew that’s what he had in mind all along. ’’

‘’Uh...Eww,’’ Emma shuddered, utterly repulsed by the lovers’ sexual games. ‘’You guys...Just...eww.’’

She explained, in all seriousness, ‘’When you’ve been together for as long as Misha and I have, you need something to keep the fire burning, to spice things up.’’

Emma gagged, her stomach churning, ‘’You know that by ‘eww’, I meant stop sharing the details of your sex life with Misha, right?’’

Victoria chortled, ‘’Stop acting so prude, you’re the one who used to share sex tips that you read and attempted from Cosmopolitan! Between the two of us, you’re the promiscuous one!’’

‘’You’re making it sound like I sleep with anything that moves!’’ Emma reproached, scandalized by Vicky’s accusation.

‘’It doesn’t matter if you do or not, I’ll still love you in spite of your habit of getting it on with strangers, Em.’’

‘’Hey!’’

‘’I’m joking,’’ the brunette said in all honesty, ‘’I know you’ve been a good girl for a long time now.’’

‘’You bet. I’ve been such a goody two shoes that I should change my name to Virgin Mary!’’ she added, joining in on the joke that was actually true to a certain extent in her college days.

‘’Well, it’s time for you to go back to your old ways. Kind of. I need you to do me a favour. It is of the utmost importance that I get back at Misha. And you are gonna play a crucial part in the success of my possibly harmful plan. It’s such an immoral, unscrupulous, wicked plan that I have a feeling I might change my mind about it when it’s actually put in action. I need to know that you’re−’’ Vicky yammered on and on until an impatient Emma cut her off.

‘’Vicki, please. Just get to the point already. I haven’t got all day you know, Maison hasn’t eaten yet and I'm freaking hungry’’

‘’Right. Sorry, I’m kinda nervous because what I’m about to ask of you might change our relationship forever. If what I concocted gets out of hand, you might actually break my family apart.’’

‘’Woah, hold on,’’ Emma spoke up, slowly realizing the immensity of the situation, ‘’I’m not sure I want to get involved..?’’

‘’If I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t either. But you’re the only person I know I can trust with this heavy task,’’ Victoria pleaded, tugging on Emma’s heartstrings. Victoria wasn’t someone Emma ever wanted to lose. She loved her an awful lot. She wouldn’t know what to do if she disappeared from her life; she was her life coach, a supporter of the frequently changing and strange lifestyles she adopts and an outstanding therapist. Emma treasured her dearly. Causing trouble in her marriage was a bad idea, even if it was per her request.

The babysitter shooked her head from side to side, feeling a bit apologetic towards Victoria for turning her down.

‘’Once, just once. Help me,’’ the older woman begged, ‘’if you’re certain you can’t do me the favour, just stop. You can stop anytime, I won’t get mad.’’

‘’Is your plan that drastic? Sounds like you’re asking me to give a try at being a porn star,’’ Emma arched her eyebrow doubtfully. ‘’...that’s not it, right?’’

‘’Hold your horses, woman. I’m not pimping you out to some creepy porno producer. Ever!’’ The frizzy haired writer shouted, appalled by Emma’s assumption.

Emma grinned, knowing her best friend would never do anything to harm her.

‘’Fine. Count me in. But if something doesn’t go according to plan, you pull me out immediately. I don’t think I’m ready to ruin your marriage and Maison and West’s lives.’’

Victoria thanked her, ‘’I know I never say it enough but I’m glad that I met you. I’m not just saying that in the heat of the moment, I should tell you this every now and then. You’re amazing.’’

Emma cooed, touched by Victoria opening up to her about how important her measly presence was in her life.

A bit embarrassed by the uncharacteristic emotional outburst, Vicki cleared her throat, ‘’Enough with the cheesiness, I’m going to e-mail you my diabolical plan as soon as Misha’s out with the two Js. That little shit’s gonna wish he never opened his big trap,’’ she said the last part frigidly, her voice showing no signs of emotion.

‘’I’m afraid, yet terribly intrigued, but rest assured, I won’t back down. You’ve done so much for me, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t return the favour?’’

Emma could hear Victoria beam on the other side of the line, ‘’In my next life, I’m gonna marry you. Talk to you later, Em.’’

Emma walked into the house, all smiles. How could she even think for one second that the matriarch of the Collins would hurt her because of Misha’s indelicate words? She should’ve held Vic in higher esteem instead of imagining a worse case scenario in which she’d get murdered in her sleep. She probably shouldn’t have written a letter ratting her out and sent it to her parents... At least she didn’t mail it to the cops yet.

As she pushed the stroller in and put it away next to the coat rack, Genevieve called out her name from the kitchen.

‘’Emma? Is everything okay?’’ she stared at the golden haired woman, searching for any sign of trauma, ‘’You look awfully happy for a person that feared for her life not long ago.’’

The latter one skipped to the fridge, amped up about reuniting with the historian as a duo of kickass heroes, bringing to justice every baddie that roams the earth. Together, they were invincible. Misha Collins better run; he was going to get his comeuppance.

‘’Oh, Gen! You have no idea!’’ Emma giggled like a school girl as she heated up Maison’s bowl of sweet potato mash in the microwave, ‘’Vicki and I are gonna play a prank on Misha!’’

‘’Oh, really? What are you guys gonna do?’’ she asked as she lulled Thomas to sleep.

‘’I don’t know yet, Vic’s gonna send me an e-mail detailing all the steps to her master plan,’’ Emma replied as she settled Maison in her high chair and handed her the warm bowl of orange goo, in which she dug in almost instantly.

Gen raised her eyebrow, surprised, ‘’I wish you both good luck !’’ she exclaimed, a bit skeptical about the outcome of their little scheme. Jared told her that pranking Misha was a piece of cake since he was generally clueless and oblivious to his surroundings. However, if he ever did get a whiff of the situation, his revenge was tenfold

Emma nodded, her shoulders deflating at the speed of light as she became fully aware of who they were going after, ‘’I guess you’ve heard about Misha’s ways of getting back at people, huh?’’

‘’Yeah, from Jared and Jensen’s tales, Misha is on a whole other level. Apparently, he plays mental games on his unfortunate victims...’’

Emma chuckled uneasily, as she rested her elbows on the kitchen island, opposite of Gen, and watched Maison devour her meal like a t-rex feasting on whatever t-rexes feast on.

‘’She sure has a big appetite, unlike Tom who is unbelievably picky with his food,’’ Genevieve motionned to Maison with her chin. She gazed lovingly at her first born, before mumbling, ‘’Jared keeps on giving him gummy bears whenever I have my back turned and I think Tom’s developping an addiction like his daddy...’’

‘’Aww, that’s adorable,’’ Emma grinned, while looking at the mother cradling her child and complaining cutely about her husband’s parenting skills. ‘’Do you have any names in mind for your second child?’’

Genevieve beamed at the thought of talking about the little one in her tummy, ‘’Tons! Aidan, Brendan, Cody, I have at least one name starting with every letter of the alphabet,’’ she said excitedly.

‘’It’s hard having to choose and Jared doesn’t make it easier! He keeps on texting me great new names for the baby. As a matter of fact, I think we’ve come up with seven names starting with ‘J’.’’

‘’What’s currently first?’’

‘’Stanley. First runner-up is Shepherd, but we’ll see when he’s born. We don’t want to give him a name that doesn’t match his personality,’’ she whispered as to not wake up the light sleeper sucking on his thumb in her arms. ‘’Hey, do you have somewhere quiet where I can lay him down? Wouldn’t want the dogs to jump on him and give him a fright.’’

‘’Yeah, sure. Upstairs, last door on the left,’’ Emma said, feeding the last spoonfuls of sweet potato to Maison.

‘’Be right back!'’ Gen grabbed her baby bag on the kitchen stool and walked to the second floor, the three intrigued dogs trailing behind like ducklings following their mother.

She freed Maison from her confinement and let her wander in the living room under her surveillance, waiting for her to poop so she could change her diaper and bathe her. Making good use of the time, Emma growled on all fours, chasing after a giggling Maison who needed to work out her wobbly and meaty legs after sitting on her bum all day.

They did a few rounds of old-fashioned chase, a game Misha and West came up with, until Emma ran out of stamina, her knees and palms sore because of the constant rubbing against the rather prickly oriental carpet. She sat down, breathless, her back resting against the black leather couch, her knees folded under her body with Maison sitting in her lap, and pulled out her cellphone from her back pocket.

At the same moment, she received an e-mail notification. She tapped on the message, her fingers tingling with anticipation. From: Victoria Vantoch.

Here goes nothing.

 

From : Victoria Vantoch  
To : Emma Holloway  
Subject : Misha is a dick

 

_WARNING! You might ruin the Collins’ lives by accepting to go through with Victoria Vantoch’s grown-up plan. Please proceed with caution._

_I’m gonna lay it all out on the table. Don’t be shocked. People who mess with Victoria Vantoch don’t live to tell the tale. Spouses are no exception. Misha deserves it. For the twenty-something years he teased me about pointless stuff/played pranks on me, I didn’t show him the whole Vicki vengence package but now he’s gonna have a taste of it. And he’s going to remember it._

_What’s about to follow might make you question my morality and my sanity. Rest assured, dear accomplice, my brain is not defective, everything is where it’s supposed to be. No screw loose here. Rusty screws however... ? Yes._

_Listen well, Emma. Or read well, whatever. You know what I mean._

_From today onwards, your mission is to seduce my husband._

_Yeah, I know, what the fuck?_

_Starting tomorrow, you have exactly one month to make him fall under your spell. (Why one month? Because having a defined period sounds much cooler!) I’m sure it won’t be that difficult because you have a charming personality and you're hot even if you get weird and creepy sometimes. I never told you this before because I’m a selfish bitch and I do get insecure, like once a year, but Misha kinda had romantic feelings for you when we were younger. So, yeah. Getting under his skin shouldn’t require a lot of effort, although I’m actually hoping from the depths of my heart that he’ll reject your advances because, well..._ _He has me._

_Anyways, just seduce Misha, make him feel guilty about cheating on me and then I’ll figure out the rest. And please, do that with subtlety ; I know how you get all flustered and jumpy when you lie._

_Again, I’m not crazy. I swear. At least not much crazier than you. By the way, it’s quite obvious but I feel like I need to tell you clearly, NO ONE can be made aware of our evil plan. Under any circumstances. Or my revenge will go down the drain and you’ll be held responsible._

_Don’t fail me. Or you won’t get to see the light of day. Because you’re gonna be in my bedside drawer. Dismembered._

_Haha, did I make you laugh? I was channelling my dormant serial killer._

Emma shuddered involuntarily, chills running down her spine. Victoria occasionally had a freaky glint in her eyes that psychotic murderer have before finishing off their victims. And she was the creepy one? As if.

_Commence operation ‘Make Misha Collins have weird stirrings in his stomach that are not due to uncooked vegetarian hamburger patties or climaxing during sexual intercourse, but to romantic, albeit forbidden, feelings for the vixen AKA Emma Holloway, so that Victoria Vantoch can finally say ‘Gotcha’ and watch him bawl his eyes out because of the unfairness of her revenge, which she had been sort of planning ever since he made her cry on their wedding night., which he enjoyed it every second of, even going as far as recording her and sending the video to all their friends... And other childish things too.’_

_Be on standby for further instructions._

No words could describe Emma’s state of mind right now. Seduce not someone else's husband but her best friend's at that? She was stunned. An incredulous scoff erupted from her throat.

‘’There’s something very wrong with that woman’s brain!’’ she massaged her temples, feeling a headache brewing. She was expecting something a little less radical. She should’ve known what she was getting into with Vicki’s temper and firm resolve of making Misha pay.

She was too absorbed by her best friend’s non-negociable request that she didn’t see Gen crouching in front of her and waving her hands in front of her face.

‘’Hey, I know we’ve only officially become friends today but can I stay over? I’d understand if it’s too much to ask, I mean, I’ve invaded your alone time and now I’m invading your house...’’ Gen rambled on, glancing furtively at Emma’s chlorophyll-colored eyes.

Gen could see the hesitation on Emma’s face but what she couldn’t see was that Emma was actually deep in her thoughts, giving orders to minuscule imaginary people to put away the ‘’Seduce Misha Collins’’ folder in one of her many mental drawers. Without even realizing her mouth was moving on its own, she agreed.

Genevieve hugged her tightly, her vision blurred by tears which were slowly running down her grateful face. ‘’Damn those pregnancy hormones!’’ she cursed, as she sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, earning a little chuckle from the house sitter.

‘’Oh!’’ Genevieve exclaimed, moving her hand to her round tummy, ‘’Baby kicks whenever I get emotional... Do you want to feel?’’

Emma snapped out of her trance and gently put her palm on Gen’s belly, amazed that a life was forming inside her friend’s belly, ‘’Woah, even though I’ve touched Vicki’s belly hundreds of times when she was pregnant, this is still fascinating.’’

Thomas’s mom smiled, ‘’When are you gonna start having children of you own?’’

Emma quickly retreated, scrutinizing the woman who suddenly reminded her of her impatient matchmaker of a mother.

Genevieve cracked a sheepish smile, ‘’I know a great guy that would definitely appreciate your wicked sense of humor!’’

Emma declined politely, ‘’Yeah...But, no. Blind dates are the worst. I’ve met an incredible number of whackos. Not sure I’m ready to be traumatized by another lopsided dick pic again.’’

The fit brunette coughed, taken aback before positionning herself comfortably on the couch for story time, ‘’Tell me all about it!’’

‘’Oh boy, don’t get me started!’’ Emma rolled her eyes dramatically, spilling on all the juicy details about her strangest suitors and spending yet another sleepless night, but this time, in the company of a new friend.


	6. It's Not Kale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What started as a meaningless prank ends up as a heartfelt conversation.

The next morning, Emma woke up to the pleasing sound of a crying baby, her long locks covering her face and handfuls of kale chips all over her body. Even the greasiest and most fattening junk food she could find in Misha and Victoria’s house had been healthified. With its baked crispiness and curvy flamboyant leaves, kale easily won over Misha’s heart and his taste buds. The green veggie’s conquest could’ve stop there but its most loyal minion converted the whole family, which resulted in Emma’s suffering everytime the Collins’ invited her for dinner. She had always been very vocal about the bad blood between her and nature’s most overrated child, she just couldn’t believe she gave in and actually let it enter her digestive system! Kale was too strong of an opponent. But the fight was not over. Oh, no.

‘’Mark my words,’’ She muttered as she stared down the crumpled aluminium bag. Now, if she hated it, why did she eat it?

Ah, yes. Genevieve convinced her into giving it another try; she was also a fervent worshipper of hell’s cabbage, ‘’Don’t let one bad memory traumatize you for the rest of your life!’’

Yesterday night’s stories about her craziest blind dates came back to her. Genevieve was easily fascinated by Emma’s atrocious dating history, giving her the impression that her tales were comparable to an iron-clad millionaire, a warrior who could summon thunder at will, a fatally sleek assassin, a green bundle of rage, a cryogenized war hero with an upper body the shape of an inverted dorito and an extremely accurate arrow shooter, saving the world from extraterrestrial entities.

Yes. She watched the Avengers not too long ago and had been obsessing over the characters for a bit now. But mostly Captain America. And his dreamy dreamy _...everything._

Still a bit dazed because of her dream involving the patriotic hunk, she searched the room with her moss-colored eyes and put all the concentration she could muster into figuring out whose cries she was hearing.

‘’Gen?’’ Emma shouted, just now noticing the woman’s absence.

‘’Up here!’’ she replied, her voice drowned out by the baby’s high-pitched wails. Emma climbed the stairs three steps at a time, heading towards the room where all the commotion was coming from. She swung the door open, finally recognizing who the shrieks belonged to.

Tom was clinging tightly to Gen’s shirt with his tiny fist, wrinkling the front of her blouse and tugging on Maison’s duck-patterned blanket. As for the weeping angel, she was standing up, clutching the railing of her crib with one hand and pulling her blanket with the other, while simultaneously screeching as loud as she could in an attempt to get the young boy to back off.

Emma quickly ended the ongoing wrestle between the two kids by unwrapping the little thief’s fingers from the object of their affection and giving it back to a teary-eyed, red-faced and hiccuping Maison. She picked her up and with a comforting touch, she stroked her chubby cheeks and wiped her tears away with her thumbs, before settling her head against her chest.

‘’Shh, it’s okay, Maison.’’

Gen softly urged the culprit to apologize. The troublemaker averted her eyes, instead, focusing on his suddenly very interesting fingers.

‘’C’mon, Tom. Tell Maison you’re sorry,’’ she insisted, pointing to a tear-stricken Maison.

Tom whipped his head in Emma’s direction. He batted his long eyelashes numerous times, his fringe getting caught between each slow blink, and stared at her, bitchyly. Thomas Padalecki was truly his father’s son. The ability to give the stinkiest of the stink eye ran in the family.

Gen scratched her neck, embarrassed, ‘’I forgot to bring his toys so I guess he wanted some sort of entertainment...? And seeing how his only playmate age-wise was soundly asleep, he thought borrowing her blankie would be fine. He didn’t count on her waking up.’’ 

Emma nodded, understandingly, ‘’Children are like crows. When they see a shiny object, of course they’d want it for themselves,’’ she reasoned, although she was pretty sure that wasn’t the reason why crows like shiny things. She’ll have to google that. She liked making metaphors to sound like she was a poetic person.

‘’I’m sure Maison won’t hold a grudge, she’s a forgiving baby, ain’t that right, sweetie?’’

Still in the stages of learning the meaning of ‘mama’ and ‘dada’, Maison gawked at her, not grasping the gibberish coming out of Emma’s mouth. With squinted eyes, she glared at the boy and gnawed on her blankie, her saliva and snot darkening the spot she was chewing on.

Thomas tried to get on the ground by making himself limp in his mom’s hold. She got the message and let him down by his armpits. The future big brother walked the few steps that separated him from Emma and reached for her hand, gesturing for her to bend down. She crouched at eye-level, one knee on the floor and the other supporting Maison’s plump butt.

‘’Yes, Thomas? What is it?’’

 He reached out to ruffle Maison’s hair awkwardy and put his arms around her, ‘’Sorry,’’ he mumbled and went in to peck her on the cheek. One big sloppy kiss. Maison frowned, lines digging in her forehead and rolls of fat stacking under her chin as she backed away from his touch.

The women smiled, overwhelmed by the adorableness unfolding in front of their eyes.

‘’Will you forgive Thomas now?’’ Emma asked. Maison glared at Tom and forcefully pushed his head away with her small hand. Thomas shyly put his fingers inside his mouth and skipped back to Gen, jumping in her arms and forcing her to hold him, his eyes never leaving Maison disgusted face.

‘’Someone’s shy!’’ Gen teased, a large grin on her glowing face, earning a few giggles from the lady killer in training. Emma laughed and pinched his cheeks. As she went in to make Maison hug Thomas, and casually brainwash the blonde child into forgiving her potential boyfriend, her phone rang.

‘’Hey, is Maison still alive?’’

 ‘’Good morning to you too,’’ Emma scoffed, offended by the implication, ‘’Are you monitoring us from your hotel room? How do you always call exactly when we wake up?’’

Misha shrugged, his unruly hair flying around. He was about to tell Emma how Victoria didn’t seem the least bit angry about yesterday’s events when he saw something shuffle behind Emma. With his eyes squinted in Castiel’s fashion and his neck extended inhumanly forward, he tried to figure out who was the mysterious silhouette lurking around. No matter how much he narrowed his eyes to identify who was standing eerily still in the background, all he could make out of the blurry shape was a female’s curves and long straight hair.

 _Ghost_ was the first word that rolled off his tongue. He tried to rationalize by reassuring himself that it was his mind playing games, that the bone-chilling presence was only Emma’s shadow, that there was no way a spirit was haunting the house since he made the realtor swear on his job that no one ever died a violent death in this house. He rubbed his eyes, put his reading glasses on, and yes, he did wear some, he wasn’t as young as everyone made him out to be, but it didn’t change anything. It was no use, the ghastly figure was still there, although it seemed like it got closer to Emma now.

His paranoia got the better of him. What if that _thing_ was after the babysitter and the babysittee? Ironically, years and years on Supernatural didn’t lessen his fear of the supernatural. As a matter of fact, reading the scripts often made him break out in cold sweat, creeping him out so badly that he had to double-check no one was standing behing him, waiting to cut his head off with a machete.

Had he been in a situation where his life was on the line, say, a evil spirit seeking revenge on good-looking actors, he would have ran without sparing a look for the people he left to die, even if they were his friends. That’s how irrationally terrified of the paranormal he was.

‘’Don’t look behind but there’s a long-haired woman behind you holding a baby,’’ he licked his dry lips nervously, ‘’Um...Just a silly thought here, getting the hell out of this house wouldn’t be a bad idea.’’

‘’So what you’re saying is there’s a ghost behind me? Ghosts aren’t real, dude!’’ Emma scoffed. 

He mouthed _yeah_. All he wanted to do was reach out through the phone to scoop Emma and Maison in the safety of his arms and barricade them in Sam and Dean’s bunker, away from evil. The glint in Emma’s eyes changed. Now was the perfect time to play with Misha and have a little preview of how rewarding it is to trick him.

With her back facing Genevieve in the dimly-lit bedroom, she motionned for her to walk closer to her, unknown to a sickly pale Misha.

Misha whispered shakily as she slowly rotated her head to look behind her. ‘’Stop! Emma-’’

Emma’s blood-curling shriek took him off guard. He jumped in fright, his phone slipping from his fingers. It attacked them! How was he going to explain to his wife that her best friend and their own daughter were murdered by a physically inexisting _thing_? He tried to gather his thoughts, running his trembling hands across his stubble, and scanned his iPhone’s screen, looking for Emma’s eyes and Maison’s rosy cheeks.

Nothing. From Misha’s angle, it seemed like the phone had been thrown on the ground and was lying on the side. All he could see were the legs of the breastfeeding chair he had built for Vicki, some orange carpeting and the wooden parts holding up Maison’s crib.

Out of nowhere, he heard a female’s voice and saw a familar pair of brown doe eyes.

‘’Genevieve Padalecki. W-what...?’’ Misha stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. ‘’Where did you- ‘’ he started, before realizing what just happened. ‘’ _Ah_.’’

Oh, that little she-devil had him good. Actually, no. This was such a basic prank; Misha couldn’t believe he got tricked by an amateur! ‘’Where is she?’’ he said, the look in his burning eyes was straight up murderous.

Gen stared at his darkening orbs, not able to look away, ‘’Uh. It’s nice seeing you as always... I really have to go pee,’’ she excused herself abruptly and threw the phone at Emma, who belatedly realized she played with fire and was going to get third degree burns.

Emma tried to lighten up the burdensome atmosphere, ‘’What’s up with the killer vibe in this family?’’ she said before laughing exaggerately, hoping he’d join in and lessen the fear slowly consuming her. He didn’t.

Through gritted teeth, Misha warned her, ‘’I’ll let you off this time. Because you are a young and foolish little deer who deserves a second chance. You won’t feel my wrath today but if you so little as to even _think_ about pulling something like that again, then you’d better go secure a piece of land somewhere for your tombstone.’'

Emma gulped, afraid, but mostly, bewitched by his saphires piercing through her jades. What was she even thinking? He was threatening her and all she could focus on was his dangerous but _very_ sexy glare. If she hadn’t discovered Misha’s teenage crush on her, she wouldn’t have been affected by the current situation. But, because of her secret spy mission and Misha’s smoldering gaze, her ears flushed. 

No matter how much preparation she put into withstanding his electrifying gazes, by looking at pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch’s gorgeous eyes for example, it never seemed like enough. The look in his eyes could either chop someone’s head off or make people want to leave everything behind and elope with him. Emma wasn’t in love with Misha. This crush of hers ended twenty years ago. There were no residual feelings. Just attraction...to his irises. 

Feeling uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny, she focused all her attention on Maison, who was sitting on the floor playing with alphabet foam blocks. ‘’Seriously though, why are all of you so sinister and menacing? Is it, like, a prerequisite for being a member of the Collins dynasty?’’

Misha smirked, ‘’Why? You want to join in with me and Vicki?’’ He turned his head slightly sideways, arching an eyebrow and narrowing his eyes seductively, peering into her question marks-filled eyes.

Emma did nothing but blink for a solid fourteen seconds, mentally replaying Misha’s flirtatious remark in her head. The more she played it, the more bewildered she became. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She was baffled.

Misha made sure to point out the expression she was making. ‘’Stop frowning or you’ll have wrinkles. And close that mouth of yours. It looks like you have an invisible, and I should say, quite girthy- ’’

‘’Misha!’’ Emma cut him off, instantly crouching down to cover Maison’s ears, ’Mind your language!’’

‘’I wasn’t going to say anything obscene, just an euphemism for _that_ part of the male body!’’ Misha exclaimed before side-eyeing her, ‘’It’s never too early to teach your kid the names of the body parts. One day, when she becomes an award-winning writer specializing in biology, who’s she going to thank in her speech, huh?’’

Emma shook her head, clearly disapproving with the way he wants his young daughter to learn about the functions of the male appendage. She was an eight months old toddler, for crying out loud!

‘’So, you wouldn’t mind if Maison’s first word was-’’ She almost let the word slip off her tongue but the sudden eye contact with Maison stopped her right away. ‘’-dongalong?’’

Misha chuckled. ‘’Dongalong, seriously? How old are you? Six?’’

‘’Cucumber, joystick, hammer, whatever,’’ Emma rolled her eyes. ‘’Do I need to remind you that because of your openess concerning what should and shouldn’t be said in front of your kids, West ran around the block shouting _sex_ non-stop at the top of his lungs ?’’

She was there when it happened, a few feet away from them. The whole family had just returned from grocery shopping and West was nicely helping Misha unload the back of the car, when he heard his dad say the ‘ _s’_ word too many times while chatting on the phone with a buddy from work. Kids pick things up fast, and it just so happened that West thought there was a nice ring to the word, that it sounded like his current favorite reptile, the burmese python, hissing. And so, he yelled it like a maniac, earning Misha quite a few stares and revolted gasps. 

‘’That wasn’t one of his greatest moments. But, hey, at least he doesn’t know what it means...yet. Maybe I should have the talk about the bees and the flowers soon...’’

Emma shook her head from side to side, a small smile tugging on her lips, ‘’West will grow up to be a sexpert among his peers...’’

Misha nodded proudly although his knowledge concerning the act of procreation barely scratched the surface compared to Vicki’s level of expertise.

‘’So, Gen came over?’’ 

‘’Yeah, I saw her at the kids festival thing yesterday and she stayed over because she misses Jared when she’s at home.’’

‘’Oh ! I almost forgot’’ he exclaimed, his eyes widening, ‘’I have good news for her. We’re all coming back earlier than planned.’’ 

‘’How come?’’ Emma asked as an empty-bladdered and light-footed Gen walked by the doorframe with Thomas and gestured that she was leaving. Emma mouthed ‘Jared’s coming home sooner’ and Gen nodded knowingly, a large smile on her face. Of course she knew her husband was coming home earlier, she was his wife after all. They waved goodbye as Misha continued. 

‘’I’ve been told that the last day of convention has been posponed. At this rate though, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be cancelled.’’

‘’You said it was good news! That is definitely not good news.’’

‘’It’s relative.’’

‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’They got intel that an anti-supernatural movement is on the way. Apparently, some dicks are going to barge in during my joint panel with the Js and shower us with insults and sanitary napkins that may or may not have been used already,’’ he stated, unfazed.

‘’Oh, my god!’’ Emma gasped, wondering what the indifference on his face meant. Did it happen so often that Misha became immune to the hate? She wasn’t even aware that Supernatural had an anti-fandom. The show had been running for so long, so obviously, its fanbase must be huge. Then again, if the number of Supernatural lovers is spectacularly grand, the anti-fanbase must be as impressive.

‘’Yeah, it’s not always glamourous the life of an actor,’’ Misha sighed loudly, letting his metaphoric walls crumble, the very ones he build around himself to ward off malicious people. He had always been a man who exuded confidence and charisma. He inspired people and nothing ever seemed to wear him down. But what happens when the one who sees the light loses his eyesight?

Except from his wife, no one really knew about how rough he had it on the show. After four years, he was finally ready to open up to someone other than his soulmate. Emma had been given the honor.

With Misha’s few appearances here and there, times were tough before the Supernatural family took him under its wings. He had been in the industry for a decade but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Superstar. He didn’t expect much from his role as Castiel; he only had a few scenes to shoot and then, he was off to find another job. Fortunately, the producers and the writers saw some potential in him and extended his contract. He was finally going to have a stable job...at least for a few months, which, eventually turned into years.

After his first episode aired, petitions rapidly circulated around social networks demanding that Misha Collins be removed from the show, stating that his acting sucked big time, despite the fact that he barely had a line, and that he was an obstacle in Dean and Sam’s mission to stop the rise of Lucifer.

Of course, he wasn’t one to wave the white flag that easily, he was passionate about acting and nothing could stand in his way. However, receiving dozens of hate mail daily took its toll on his mental well-being. He closed himself off from Vicki, from their friends; he didn’t leave the house except to shoot Supernatural. The upbeat Misha, who used to share the details of his day enthusiastically to his lover, barely uttered a word at dinner. The jogs that he used to take in the wee hours of morning to get him all pumped up for the day became the thing he dreaded most. Being alone with his thoughts, without Vicki helping him fight off his demons, made him realized how vulnerable he was. His attemps at trying to better his acting were futile; unappreciative fans saw not even a speck of talent in him. He was garbage next to Jared and Jensen.

‘’If it wasn’t for Vicki being by my side, cheering me on when I wanted to give up, I would’ve long left the series. She was, and still is, my pillar, the very foundation of my success,’’ he ended, looking away so Emma wouldn’t see his eyes turning a bit red. 

‘’Misha, I didn’t know...And to think that I made fun of you and told you that you wouldn’t have any fans,’’ she said in a brittle voice, remorse eating her up. ‘’If I had known...God. I just-’' 

‘’Emma, stop, it's fine’’ Misha interrupted, ‘’I know that you’re thinking you jinxed it, that you think you have some sort of weird curse thing on people but, no. I just didn’t want anyone to know about the dark days I went through. It happens to everyone but, I mean, I don't like to be seen as weak."

"Misha..." Emma said, almost soundlessly, her heart slowly filling up with emotion.

"Sure, I was angsty and toxic to myself when I was younger, but doesn’t that happen to every kid hitting puberty? I guess I didn’t want anyone to think that, at 35, I was falling back into depression.’’

‘’You what?! When? During high school? Before you met us?’’ Emma gasped, referring to her and Vicki. Just picturing a bright teenage Misha joking and laughing at school, going home, doing a complete turnaround, and locking himself up in his room to try to feel less of the sadness he bottled up in his fragile high schooler heart made her want to wrap herself in a shock blanket and go into hibernation forever.

Misha noticed the sudden glass-like state of her orbs, ‘’Yeah, well, I was the new kid, and I didn’t exactly fit in. Before meeting you guys, I had been made fun of, called names and poked around for a long time’’, he said quietly, ‘’I mean, I had a few friends at one point, but I never felt like they truly accepted me for who I was; I felt like I didn’t belong.  They were different. They were so...normal. And I was weird. I mean, how many homeless 7 year olds do you know? Very few if not, none. I never related to them and their weekends in the Hamptons, making every day an emotional roller-coaster for me. With no one to tell me that everything’s going to be alright, it’s...’’ Misha put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his eyes, getting choked up thinking back to his teenage years.

There was so much pain behind his cheerful facade. Tears stung Emma’s eyes, she blinked them away while Misha wasn’t looking and regained her composure. She tried to speak but her tongue was tied.

‘’Sorry, I’m so sappy and pitiful,’’ he managed to crack a sour grin.

‘’It’s fine, really. I’m honoured that you trust me enough to share all that pain,’’ she struggled to keep her voice steady. He said nothing for awhile, both of them communicating through their eyes.

‘’Well, you mean as much to me as my family. You’re like a second Vicki to me, but like, minus the marriage thing.’’

Her eyes twinkled, her nasolacrimal duct working up again,‘’Really?’’ 

‘’Well, yeah. We've known each other for like twenty years, so you're automatically upgraded to family status!"

"Jeez, that's unbelievably sweet of you," she replied, surprised.

"And if I’m not mistaken, you were there by my side when I felt helpless filming that fucking creepy movie. I was lucky enough to have you and Vicki patch me up or I think I would still be having monstruous nightmares. It was terrifying how closely I associated with _him_. I still have some remnants that I need bleach to clean out...’’ he trailed off, his face contorting, as he travelled back to his worst memories, to when he had become so frighteningly invested in an unscrupulous character that he was confused as to who he really was.

Emma recalled how broken and revulsed Misha was every time they met up after he was done shooting the tasteless movie about the infamous Canadian killer.

‘’Let’s not talk about it,’’ Emma’s soft voice pulled him out of his nightmarish memories before he was too deep in, ‘’You know what? Let’s not talk about any of those things.’’

She gazed into his troubled ocean blue gems, waiting for a sign that he was okay. He looked up, staring blankly for awhile, and through his luscious lashes, he threw her a Misha-esque smile, a smile laced with thankfulness all the while evoking mischief; a smile that could make anyone faint within a ten mile radius. Emma bit her lip unconsciously, taken by his boyish charm. He was nearly forty but he had such an naive and childlike side to him. Right now, he really reminded her of the Misha she had a crush on when she was a young. The one who, despite all the obstacles standing in his way, did his best to move forward. The one for whom she perhaps harbored stronger feelings than she had thought all these years.

The one with whom she had _fallen in love with_.

Because, yes, it was time she faced the truth, she had been in love with him. Her so-called crush wasn’t as innocent as she had made herself believe. It wasn’t infatuation at that time, it really was love in one of its most complex form. 

And then, she knew.

Something inappropriate and dangerously familiar was stirring her heart and upsetting her stomach.

And it was not the aftertaste of kale.


	7. Acting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Collins come back, Victoria starts phase one of 'Operation Misha' to the reluctance (?) of Emma.

An uneventful day has passed since Misha’s unfiltered conversation with Emma. In a few hours, the family of three would be back and she’d have to say goodbye to the little bundle of joy she had grown attached to and go back to her empty and lifeless house. Despite the reluctance and overwhelming inaptitude she felt at first about the responsibility Vicki and Misha entrusted to her, Emma did unbelievably well and she was proud of herself. Maison still had all her limbs and the house was in the same pristine condition than on the day she arrived.

She inspected every nook and cranny to make sure that Crowley didn’t leave any unsavory surprises, occasionally getting distracted by all the quirky family photos all over the house. After picking up a flaky piece of poo off the kitchen floor, she decided to sit back, relax and wait for the family’s return. What better to do than to watch some full length high definition Supernatural episodes? To Emma’s overwhelming joy, all the episodes were subtitled! Despite the undeniable attraction she felt towards Dean Winchester’s impossibly deep and husky voice, she couldn’t deny the fact that the majority of her time was spent deciphering his words.

‘’How low can he actually go ?’’ she’d say while thinking back to season one of Supernatural starring Dean’s barely mature voice.

Hearing the evolution of the green-eyed Disney prince’s voice got Emma thinking about another oh-so attractive rich-sounding voice belonging to a certain angel...

Emma had been debating with herself whether or not she should tell Victoria about the stirrings she felt. Pooping habits and weirdly shaped moles in strange places, sure, but a sudden interest in Misha ? Especially now that she had been given the order to play with his heart ? Not in a million years.

She was going to carry out the mission entrusted to her. That is all. She’ll just have to detach herself emotionally and everything will be swell; it’s not like she was a teenage girl whose heart fluttered for the simplest things such as guys holding the door open for her.

 

No. Of course not.

 

Emma was determined, she had a duty and nothing was going to derail her from Vicki’s goal. For once in her life, she wasn’t going to be a worrywart and care about the repercussion of her actions. She was a ‘’middle-aged’’ woman, which meant that soon, she would spend her days knitting and baking cookies for her imaginary grand-children. It’s now or never ; it’s time she did something crazy. It’s time she brought back Emma Holloway, the man-eater. Furthermore, if things turn sour, she can blame it all on Vicki !

 

Yes. Everything was going to be fine. Nothing bad will happen as long as she remembers that this is not real. It’s an act. It’s make-believe.

 

‘’I’m an actress. I’m a professional. I’m a cameleon!’’ she chanted like a mantra, seemingly possessed while occasionally pressing the pause button to lose herself in Jensen’s beauty and Jared’s hotness, swearing to get rid of her incorrigible habit. In fact, Misha and Vicki had caught her staring at Jared so many times during their first ‘’dinner with friends’’ that they had to drag her away and have an intervention about her borderline stalkerish behaviour. 

Huh. That would explain why Genevieve never tried to contact her afterwards; Emma could see how her actions could’ve rubbed her new friend the wrong way. It’s a good thing she hasn’t met Jensen yet because she was positive she wouldn’t be able to control her soul-penetrating stares of death.

‘’Ah, another potential friendship ruined,’’ she thought as she trained herself to ignore Jensen’s 8,000-feet-deep voice, and failed miserably. She just couldn’t help herself. She had a thing for deep and strong voices, hearing them had unspeakable physiological effects on her. She particularly loved hearing them _groan_ her name when engaging in vigorous bedroom activities such as– 

‘’Ding ! Dong !’’ Emma repeated as the ringing of the doorbell resonated in the house, stopping her train of naughty thoughts, ‘’they’re here, Maison !’’ 

As she went to open the door, she heard a loud thud followed by Victoria raising her voice at Misha. Oh, that was not good.

‘’Where are the spare keys?! You’re asking ME where I put them? You said you’d handle anything related to house security! You misplaced the keys and now, you’re freaking telling me that you forgot where you put the only pair of keys that’ll allow us into our own house ?!’’ 

‘’Calm down, they’re probably somewhere around this area,‘’ he motionned in a circular fashion to the succulents surrounding the entrance of their abode while Victoria wasted no time yelling at him. 

‘’Calm down? Oh, I’m fucking calm! You know what, Mr. Misha Collins–’’

Sensing that she was intruding on the couple’s spat, Emma looked through the peephole and made the sound decision to quietly back away from the door, grab the keys on the table and leave through the side window with Maison in her arms. She’ll pretend she was taking a stroll with Maison and saw them on her way back. Anything to get out of the possibly awkward situation of opening the door to her friends informing the whole neighborhood about their marital problems and being forced to choose a side or worse, to the traumatizing sight of them making up, and making _out_ , right here, on the porch. 

Emma sneaked out of the house, putting her ninja skills up to the test, and concealed her body behind the fortunately-placed pine trees. She stayed behind the untrimmed branches for a few more seconds, to not rouse any suspicion over her conveniently timed appearance, and dusted Maison and herself off any incriminating pine leaves suggesting they were hiding in the first place, before power-walking towards the party of three. 

‘’Hey, guys ! How was the convention ?’’ Emma high-fived West and handed Maison over to an euphoric Victoria outstretching her arms to hold her gurgling daughter, her attention completely on the toddler, even ignoring Emma’s welcoming embrace.

Misha waved tiredly and greeted her with her favorite salute; a hug. The younger woman took this opportunity to casually drop the keys on the lawn, which were handed to her by Vicki a few days ago. 

‘’Aren’t those your keys ?’’ she pointed to the object in question, feigning ignorance as to how they came to appear out of thin air, her arm still loosely wrapped around Misha’s solid back. 

Misha glanced at the ground and back to Emma’s emerald eyes, ‘’Thanks, she was about to scalp me right here, right now,’’ he whispered, his warm hand resting on her lower back. He bent over and picked up the keys.

‘’Honey, I found them!’’ he jinggled them in front of her frowning face, not quite understanding why his usually collected wife was all flared up. 

‘’I can see that. How convenient it is that they seemed to pop out of nowhere when _Emma_ arrived,’’ she shot him a glare and spat her name with venom. 

Misha unlocked the door, not before giving her a confused look, wondering where this sudden coldness came from. ‘’Okay, then...’’

Victoria stayed behind as Misha rushed a full-bladdered West to the bathroom, leaving the two women outside. 

‘’And...scene,’’ Victoria closed her eyes, exhaled and lowered her hand in a theatrical manner, beaming with pride and content. 

Emma gawked at her, incredulous, ‘’What the hell was that about ? Why’d you scream at him like a lunatic woman?’’ 

Victoria returned the hug she reluctantly ignored from her best friend earlier, with Maison lightly squished between them, ‘’Part one of ‘Operation Misha’ is making myself distant, and rendering him lost and helpless as to why our marriage is quickly deteriorating,’’ she said.

Emma shook her head from side to side, truly seeing the magnitude of Vicki’s revenge now that it was set in motion. She _did_ say she wanted to do something crazy but not ruin-her-friends’- life crazy! At this instant, she realized that maybe she underestimated the implications of Vicki’s devious ways. 

‘’I really don’t think you have to go to such length to avenge, uh, yourself,’’ Emma hesitated, ‘’perhaps you’d like to reconsider... ?’’ 

‘’No. The game is on. No turning back for me,’’ she persisted, an edge in her voice, before pushing a finger in the space between Emma’s collarbones, ‘’or you.’’

The younger woman nodded, unsure, regret creeping up on her, steadily. Emma should not have let her decades-long friendship with Victoria cloud her judgment; she should have known Victoria wasn’t going to be as indulgent as she pretended to be and allow her to back out of the plan if doubt consumed her, which was exactly what was happening right now. 

‘’We’re in this together. It’s all or nothing,’’ Victoria said, grabbing Emma’s hand and giving it a purposeful squeeze, determination lighting up her eyes.

‘’Nothing good will come out of this.’’ she thought, knowing all too well that to her best friend, careful warnings were interpreted as loose suggestions. 

‘’Oh and by the way, next time you want to leave the house secretly, wear something that’s a bit less...’’ Victoria paused, looking for the right words,’’...conspicuous. I mean, blue polka dots on a white shirt ? Really ?’’ 

Emma slow-blinked, only now registering that Victoria blew a fuse on purpose to get her to leave the house. The older friend knew Emma wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of escaping from arguments and confrontations, two of the few things she had learnt to avoid when she entered adulhood.

‘’So you knew I had the keys and that I was gonna get them to Misha ?’’

Vicki smiled, pleased with how the length of their friendship could be so easily translated into her knowledge about Emma’s character. Her expression quickly shifted from relaxed to all business-like.

‘’Listen, this is how it’s gonna play out. While I’m doing my part, you’ll have to do yours. That means I’ll do my best to make you look appealing whenever I can, which means I’ll make myself _almost_ unapprochable to Misha. Slowly but surely, you’ll get to Misha but you’ll have to take the opportunity whenever it arises. Even if it means hurting my feelings. Why ? Because in the grand scheme of things, it won’t matter as long as our mission is a success. Do I make myself clear ?’ 

Emma bobbed her head unknowingly, blown away by her first ever real-life contact with Victoria’s unparalleled leadership and dominant presence.

‘’Wow, you’re so fucking cool. Is it weird that I’m kinda turned on right now ?’’ she confessed, unashamed, to which Victoria, a bit taken by surprise, laughed quietly, mildly amused.

‘’Finally, I found out what tickles your fancy. Now I know what to get you for Chrismas,’’ she moved her eyebrows teasingly before letting an unusual silence set between them.

At that exact moment, Misha walked out of the house, witnessing something that, to his eyes, resembled sexual tension between the two of the most important women in his life. Shrugging off his beloved’s questionable attitude earlier, he threw in a suggestive comment to calm down the seemingly salient fiery chemistry the friends exuded.

‘’Shall we take this up to the bedroom, ladies ?’’ he spread his arms in an inviting way, eyes locked with his spouse, gauging her reaction to his attempt at making her crack a smile.

As if on cue, Victoria did a complete 180, personality-wise, and snapped, ‘’Look, we all know you’re a sexual being Misha, but, please, can you not make a pass at my _best friend_ right in front of my fucking face ?’’

And she left with a hiccuping Maison, the little one unaware of the storm that was brewing.

What was wrong with Vicki ? Misha had never seen her so impatient and he has seen a lot of Vicki’s facettes over the years. It almost slipped his tongue, but he managed to keep it in right until she left the premise and went upstairs, slamming the door with no regards to the delicate door hinges he had planned to fix.

‘’Is she on her period or something ?’’ he asked, knowing clearly that this misogynistic assumption shouldn’t be the basis of the commonly construed association between women and anger, but nevertheless falling prey to it.

Emma sighed, wondering if this is what Vicki was talking about, one of those opportunities for her to make herself more available to the middle-aged man by lending a supposedly compassionate ear, and thus, gradually transitioning from friends to a morally ambiguous relationship. There was no denying how much she valued her pure (or so she wanted to convince herself) friendship with the man however, as teenagers say ‘’besties before testes’’.

‘’My allegiance lies with Vicki.’’ she said inaudibly before resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and kneading it, as platonically as possible. 

Physical contact, also known as a step of utmost importance in Emma’s Seduction Guide For Dummies, had to be initiated early considering how little time she had at hand to fulfill her mission. But sudden aggressive and forward touches might be too precocious, hence sticking to innocuous contact.

Misha put his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly, his shoulder rounded with defeat, taking her sigh as an affirmative response to his question.

‘’That’s what I thought. It’s kind of a relief actually, that means she’ll be back to her usual self in a week or so...Until then, looks like it’s only gonna be you and me ! So, at what time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow ?’’

Emma stopped whatever she was doing, perplexed as to what he was alluding to. As always, she made plans she forgot about but knowing the Collins, it must have had something to do with protecting the environment or illegal activities. ‘’Remind me again why you have to pick me up ? I’m not asking because I forgot, I just like hearing it directly from your mouth because you make it sound so much more fun!’’ She squealed like a head cheerleader.

Misha picked up the three-piece luggage, his hands already full but wanting to get to the ripped bag of diapers still lying on the ground. Struggling to bring everything inside by himself, Emma lent him a helpful hand.

‘’She could’ve at least taken upstairs the diaper bag, sheesh. Poor unfortunate Misha.’’ She thought, pitying the man like never before. Ah, the mis(?)fortune of marrying a woman as vengeful as himself...

He gave her an unconvincing look followed by a small grin, ‘’Sure, that’s the reason why. But yeah, we’re gonna hit the road for a few hours to get to that tree we planted years ago, bring it here, and implement it onto our lawn. So, when do you want to leave ? ’’

Emma snorted, and laughed out loud, bitterness controlling her reaction.

 

 _That_ tree...

 

The tree that grew from the love, and the seed, Victoria and Misha buried in the soil the day they were joined in holy matrimony. Isn’t it especially ironic that _she_ was the one accompanying _him_ to take down its roots ? 


End file.
